Three years after my husband Charles died in a work accident, I met Jacob. He was warm, kind, and adored my daughter, Maggie. I thought we could heal together, so I let him in. Two months ago, we married.

One night, as I tucked Maggie into bed, she whispered, “New-Dad told me to keep a secret. Is that okay?” My stomach twisted. “No secrets, sweetheart. What is it?”

She hesitated. “Yesterday, I woke up early and couldn’t find him. Then I saw him and a pretty lady in a red dress come out of the basement. He told me not to tell you.”

Alarm bells rang. When I confronted Jacob, he laughed it off. “She’s an interior designer. I wanted to surprise you by fixing up the basement.”

The basement was indeed transformed, but something felt off. That night, I checked his social media and found a photo of him with a blonde woman in a red dress. When I showed Maggie, she confirmed it was her.

I set up hidden cameras and feigned a work trip, leaving Maggie with my mother. The second night, my phone buzzed: MOTION DETECTED. I saw Jacob kissing the woman in red.

I raced home. When I confronted him, she sneered, “He only married you for the house and money.” Jacob stood silent.

“Get out. Both of you.”

The next day, I threw his belongings away and took Maggie for ice cream. “No more secrets, Mommy,” she said.

I smiled. “No more secrets.”